Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 18:00:05 +0000
From: white collar <white_collar@hotmail.com>
Subject: Converted to cock-sucker - part 4 - Gay Authoritarian

Author:  white collar
Subject: Converted to cock-sucker(Oral, forced)
Date: April 4, 2013

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Chapter 6

As I hung there, I began to realize that being bound, more-or-less
immobile, was going to become quite uncomfortable.  I shifted my weight
from one foot to the other and thrust my pelvis forward and then twisted a
bit to try to avoid becoming frozen in one position.  In the darkness, I
became very sensitive to the sense of touch: the finished wood on my skin,
the firm grip of the soft fleece and slightest breathes of air that, now
and then, came sneaking through the crack between the two doors.  I also
became very aware of sounds filtering in from Master's office: the ring of
his phone, the quiet squeaks of his chair as he pivoted and rolled from
side to side.  Then I heard the sound of voices.

My heart caught in my throat as I realized he was convening a meeting right
there on the other side of the doors hiding me and my naked captivity from
view.  Laughter and greetings, bright chatter, respectful addresses, all
the components of a meeting of staff of varying degrees of seniority.  Some
were authoritative and assured; others less so.  Some were almost timid in
their responses and seemed to be encouraged to speak their minds.  I could
make out most of the conversation but some voices came through at such a
low pitch and/or volume that I couldn't make out what they were saying.  I
figured those voices were either the most senior members of staff, who had
no need to speak up to demonstrate their command, or the less senior, less
self- assured.  I moved slightly to re-position myself and heard a slight
clink of the carabiners in the eye-hooks.  I froze and held my breath:
Master would not be pleased if he'd heard it too.  There was a sudden
silence in the room beyond the doors and I knew that the sound had carried.
After a few moments of silence, someone laughed and said something about
the air conditioning systems needing a going-over and after some laughter,
the meeting resumed.  I exhaled silently, but was careful not to move
again.

Eventually, the meeting ended and those participating dispersed; some
quickly, others taking their time.  Knowing the internal politics, I
assumed those departing latest were the most senior members who traded on
their familiarity with the boss and continued to curry his favor.  As that
thought swept through my mind, I almost choked: talk about currying favor;
I was groveling for favor and doing more than just groveling: I was
literally sucking the boss's cock.  If people only knew what it meant to
kiss ass!

I heard the last of the meeting leave and Master locked his door.  In a few
moments, the doors to my closet swung open and I heard more than saw a
leather strap flying through the air and then heard, a split-second before
I felt, its impact on my chest.  I started to howl in pain and shock but
Master was on me, his hand stifling my cries, covering my mouth.

"Don't you ever make a sound when you're in here," he whispered, his voice
filled with menace.  "The next time, you'll pay dearly.  I'll see to it
that you don't sit down for a week.  Do you understand maggot?"

"Yes sir, I'm sorry sir.  I-I-I didn't realize... I'm sorry sir," I whined.
I was shocked by his sudden attack and my chest felt like it had been hit
with a hot iron.

"Very few of my people know about this closet and I don't intend to have a
nothing like you exposing it.  Open your mouth."

I obeyed and he shoved a penis gag into my mouth and strapped it behind my
head.

"At least that will keep you quiet," he said, slapping my face so hard that
my head swung to the side.  I was sure his hand-print was on my cheek.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something that looked wicked.  It
had two clips on the ends of a chain.

"Do you know what these are, boy?"

I shook my head and voiced "No sir," though of course, my vocalization came
out as grunts.

"These are Japanese clover clamps.  They were invented by Japanese sailors
to help them mend their sails.  You see, the harder you pull on the ends,
the tighter the clamps close.  Let me show you."

And with that, he fastened on on my left tit.  I howled in pain and
struggled for air, wishing I could double over, but I was held upright by
my shackles.  A nasty device, this St. Andrew's cross – the captive is
fully exposed to whatever his tormentor wishes to dish out and has no way
and nowhere to hide or shield himself.  He placed this other clip on my
right tit, drawing an equally pained response from me.  Then he hooked the
chain joining the clips with one finger and pulled slightly.

"Aaaaaggghhhh," I screamed, though, of course, very little sound escaped
through my gag.

"You see boy, these are devilish devices and very suitable for training a
slave like you to behave as I wish you to behave.  All I need to do is
remind you of this pain and you will immediately do as you're told.  Not
that you wouldn't anyway, since I hold your very life in my hands and
there's no telling when I might just decide to drop it."

As he said this, he dropped the chain against my belly and my tits screamed
with pain as they were twisted and pulled downward.  He took a steel ball
with a hook on the top from his pocket and hung it on the chain, stretching
my tits even farther.  Tears sprang to my eyes and I bit down on the rubber
penis in my mouth to stifle my cries.

"See you later maggot," he said, and closed the doors.

Eventually, the pain in my tits drifted into a dull ache and finally, to
numbness.  I knew my tits were clamped tightly, but it was more the weight
than the pinching that I was aware of.  I alternated between hanging and
standing but, as time inched along, I became more and more uncomfortable.
When people entered Master's office, I froze, afraid that the slightest
movement would call attention to my closet and terrified that I would give
myself away.  I couldn't imagine the consequences of that.  Not only would
there be the acute humiliation of being found naked, but there would be
questions about what Master was engaged in and I knew who, ultimately,
would pay the price for those questions.  So whenever I heard voices
outside or heard the office door open, I drew in a quiet breath and did my
best to remain still as a statue.

Hours crept by and finally, I heard Master speaking to another with words
and tone of familiarity.

"So, you made use of my property, did you?  I guess you enjoyed it," he
laughed.

"Definitely," said the other.  "Good stock you have there!"

I froze again, but not for fear of being found out: It was Master's friend
Jon, whose cock I had been forced to suck at the gym and who had filled my
gullet with piss.  I was pretty sure that Jon would know that I was here
inside the closet and I was equally as sure that they were going to make
use of my services.  Hadn't Master promised me a "cocktail" before he let
me go for the day?

The sound of the conversation filtered through the doors in bits and
bursts.  I couldn't make out all their words, depending, I supposed, on
their proximity to the closet and the direction each speaker was facing.
But I easily discerned the sound of lascivious laughter and a few words
that struck me like blows: "Pussy... cunt... pig... whore... pimping..."  I
knew, instinctively, that those words were being used in reference to me.

Finally, the doors opened.  I blinked and squinted in the sharp light,
after having been in almost complete darkness for at least several hours.
Master was standing there in front of me and Jon came around the door on
one side, apparently having just locked Master's office door.

"Very nice," Jon chuckled.  "Trussed up like a pig.  But don't you think he
has too much hair on him Greg?  I mean he looks too much like a man.  With
hair like that, he's going to have a hard time adapting to his newly
developing role."

"Yeah, you're right," Master said.  "Let's take care of that while we have
him strung up.  Makes it easier."

Jon wheeled a cart over with a bowl of water, a can of shave foam and a few
safety razors on it.  Realizing what they were planning, I began to yank
against my bonds.  Surely they weren't going to take my body hair.  What
would Elaine say?  What would the guys at the gym say?  I'd be a humiliated
laughing-stock.

"No, no, please no," I cried around the penis gag filling my mouth.
"Pleeeeeze!"

Master slapped my face.

"Shut up maggot.  You get no say in this.  I know you're thinking about
what your wife's going to say.  Just tell her that all the guys in the gym
are doing it and you thought you'd give it a try to see how it felt.
Besides, she'll be happier to give you a blow-job without coming away with
hair in her mouth.  That's one of the main reasons women don't like to give
blow-jobs.  Kind of like finding a hair in your soup, right?"

Master and Jon both laughed at me.

"This is going to hurt," Master said, placing his hands on the clamps on my
nipples.

His touch alone was painful, but when he opened the jaws of the clamps,
allowing the blood to come rushing back in to my numb tits, it was like
being grabbed with hot pliers.  I howled in pain and Master, grinning
wolfishly, rubbed my chest.

"There, there boy.  Calm down.  It's just a little circulation coming back.
Not all that bad..."

Of course, he knew how bad it was, making it all the more delicious for
him.  He rubbed my chest roughly, digging in with his palms and pulling on
the coat of fur covering my pecs.  He grabbed my nipples and stretched
them, making me lean as far forward as the restraints would allow and still
stretching my tits a good inch from my chest.  I squealed behind the gag
and jumped up and down, trying to relieve the pain, but he had a firm grip
and didn't let go.

"Such a wussy," Jon said with disgust.  "Let's make him look like what he
is."

He picked up the can of shaving foam and dispensed a generous dollop into
his hand, before handing it to Master, who, likewise, took a large dollop.
They rubbed it onto my chest and belly and the coolness of the menthol was,
at first, a relief.  Then it began to burn..  My tender nips especially
were on fire, making me squirm and wriggle.  I just wanted to get loose and
get away from this torture.

Master slapped me again.

"Hold still, dammit," he said sternly.  "You have no choice in this and the
sooner you learn that, the better."

I did my best to hold still.  Jon and Master each picked up a razor and
began to remove the hair on my chest.  Tears streamed down my face as this
sign of manhood that I'd proudly born since I was in my early twenties
began to be stripped from me.  I hung my head and cried.  They were erasing
my manhood.  They might just as well have castrated me.

After my chest and belly, they shaved my armpits and finally went to my
crotch.  There are many men who don't have a lot of body hair, but almost
all men have a bush.  And now, I was losing that too.  When they finished,
they wiped me down with damp towels and held up a tailor's mirror, giving
me full view of my now denuded body.  I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
My nipples now stood out like dark coins on my smooth chest and my cock
looked huge, with it's forest of fur gone.

"Well," Jon said, standing back and appraising my new look.  "I think this
is the way your boy should look Greg.  I'd say that you no longer have a
maggot; I'd say you have a faggot."

"Yeah, Jon, you're right.  I've got one little faggot here.  I'm going to
enjoy training and using him.  Help me install a cage on him.  I want to
begin training him in what his dick is good for."

Jon took an acrylic item from the tray and disassembled it.  He slipped the
ring around my cock and behind my balls and then slid a part with three
pins in it into place, closing the ring.  Then he placed a couple more
pieces.  Master had picked up a slightly curved tube with perforations in
it and this he slid my dick into and mounted it on the pins.  Then a small
lock snapped into place.

"Good," he said.  "That'll keep him from thinking his dick has any purpose
other than peeing."

"B-but sir?" I ventured.

"Yes faggot?"

"B-but what about my wife?"

"I'll take it off again before I send you home tomorrow boy.  Tonight, tell
her you're just not up to it, if she asks that is."

"Yes sir," I answered, looking down at my caged dick

Master and Jon unhooked me from the St. Andrew's and guided me over to
Master's desk.

"Get on your back faggot; head hanging over the side."

I obeyed as quickly as I could, but was impeded by my sweaty skin dragging
on the surface of the desk.  It hurt as I slid into the proper position,
but I knew that neither Master nor Jon cared about my discomfort.  It was
finally sinking in that it didn't much matter what I thought or felt; I was
Master's slave and, as such, was around for his pleasure and amusement and
not much else.  Master pushed me into the position he desired.

"Here you go Jon," he said.  "Try a tittie suck."

"Right," Jon said, dropping his pants.

He pulled his cock out and opened my jaw.  Shoving his big cock in my
mouth, he tweaked my tits, making my throat contract.

"Aaaahhhh," Jon sighed.  "So good."

I could only gurgle around the mass filling my mouth and clogging my
throat.

To be continued.